Let me unscatter you
by coffeexeyes
Summary: Grima is a socially anxious college student and Eowyn is the new girl in his debate club that seems to hate his guts... AU Grima/Eowyn fanfic. They're not really canon the first many chapters. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello!**

**So, my name is Samuil and this is my very first attempt at fanfiction, ever. I realize that Grima/Eowyn is not a nice pairing, but I've shipped them like FedEx since what seems like forever and I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm sorry for any language mistakes, but English is not my mother tongue and I've only studied it for ten years now. Well that's it for now, I hope you enjoy it ^^**

**Chapter 1**

/GPOV/

You know, debate club was fun before she joined.

I mean, it's not completely her fault, it just... well it kinda is.

Last year was so much fun. At first it wasn't, of course. I was freshman in a college in a different town, and I knew nobody, more importantly - no one seemed to want to know me. I guess getting a tongue split first thing after getting 18 wasn't such a good idea. Saruman was, like, the first person not to be horrified of me... but it's not like he noticed me at all. I was just a part of the crowd. His crowd. And he had quite a crowd, I'm telling you. He was like a wizard of words; he could convince you in whatever came to his mind. I think he was a neo-nazi deep down, but I really couldn't care less. He was so fascinating.

Soon, I joined in the debate club he was a member of. I felt out of place the first few times(I've never been one to socialize much), but I slowly gained confidence and started taking part in some of the conversations. I don't really have opinions on most of nowadays' problems, as I don't watch TV or read the news on a daily, not even on a monthly basis and am not aware of what's going on. (I'd rather not be, honestly. Our world scares me.) But when it came to subjects I was accustomed with, I would enthusiastically join in discussions; I may not be half as skilled as the other guys, but I had passion if nothing else. And, for a change, I had something in my life to look up to. I was happy.

Then summer break came and Saruman got involved with that guy that he met on the beach, Sauron or whatever his stupid name is - anyway, he's not local and goes to a college somewhere far away, so Saruman randomly decided to literally drop out of college and sign up for Sauron's college. Just like that. However, I kept going to debate club meetings. I had grown fond of reasoning with people, and despite I hadn't made friends, I felt less alone there. I finally belonged somewhere, for my part.

And then she joined.

The first time I saw her, I honestly thought I had died and were now in Heaven, observing an angel, and I'm not too fond of religion and such things. She has the most magnificent blond curles, I swear. And she looked so fragile, like a porcelain-made damsel in distress. But I was yet to discover how far from reality my first impression was.

As I now am one of the "old dogs" in Reservoir(that's the name of our club; I think it's a movie reference or something like that), they usually let me start speaking on "my" topics. And Eowyn - that's her name - always snorts and goes with the completely different opinion. I'm not sure where she gets her arguments, but she's brilliant. It's been three weeks since I met her and we haven't agreed once, and she always reasons the crap out of me. Which is not actually that hard, I suck at opinions. I suck at life but that's another story.

I've found out that Eowyn is a Buddhist, a feminist, and a supporter of about every minority I have and have not heard of in my life. She also trains judo and listens to riot grrl bands. And for a Buddhist, she has too big anger management problems, I kid you not - especially when it comes to me. Sometimes I'm really goddamn scared of her. I mean she's all sweet and tender and then she turns to me and starts yelling and it's like she's about to stab me with the closest sharp object.

I'm pretty sure she hates me.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, this is yet another "introduction chapter"; I felt it was necessary to show both ways of thinking before the action starts, I hope nobody minds. I'd also like to thank PrincessOfSparta for her kind review ^w^**

**Chapter 2 **

/EPOV/

I know how everybody has something good about them, but what's good about him?!

Really.

This all started when Aragorn mentioned he took part in a debate club. Aragorn - my hopeless crush since freshman year. He was noble and intriguing and, well, quite dumb - but he didn't treat me like a less-than-him person and that made him dreamy. So I joined in his club, though not only because of him. I've always liked to prove people wrong.

The first time I attended a "Reservoir" meeting(the Tarantino movie reference was quite the pleasant surprise, I must say), I thought I should just keep quiet and take mental notes, get to know the guys. But then Elrond - founder of the club and "head of the pack" - started a discussion on abortion and if it was okay, and this guy Grima stood up. There were two things about him I noticed immediately - 1) he was into extreme body modifications and 2) he was a total jerk. "Well, isn't abortion robbing an innocent human being of life?" I rolled my eyes, jumped to my feet and immediately replied, trying to keep my voice calm, "Well, isn't having an unwanted child robbing an innocent human being of future?"

My, was he obnoxious!

Every single time he just has to go with the absolutely moronic opinion. It's gotten to the point where I expect him to say bullshit. Aragorn said that there was this guy Saruman last year who was "able to convince you that Hitler was an angel" and apparently Grima is just repeating Saruman's way of thinking instead of building up his own. Which still makes him an idiot, really, copying_ ideas_? What a dumb fuck.

So imagine my surprise when he actually said something human today.

As usual, I sat down next to Aragorn, but apart from a welcoming smile, he barely paid me attention, too busy discussing an upcoming party with the guy next to him, Haldir. A party I was hardly looking forward to. I knew what it was going to be like - cheap alcohol and cheaper pick-up lines. Still, I was willing to go, as it meant more getting to know Aragorn.

When Elrond asked if we knew what the scandal Arizona project-law was about and Grima stood up, what he said had me gasp in shock. "Some senseless, inhumane whaleshit, that's what," he stated, obviously annoyed, and after a deep sigh he went on. "I mean, didn't we have this conversation already? You don't get to decide who sits at the lunch counter. You don't get to decide who's less or more human!" he seemed to deeply believe in his words, and I felt a smile creep up my face as I quietly clapped, at which he raised an eyebrow. "You won't raise no objection?" "No, I agree with you here. Queer people are, before all, people." Grima looked at me with confusion, but smiled and shook his head in a blushing approval.

So he's not as ignorant after all, wow.

Neither of us spoke more on the matter, but he managed to ruin all good impressions as everybody walked out of the room at the end; I walked past him and heard this creepy guy Gollum say to him, "Shit, man, Queen Bitch actually was nice to you!" and Grima had that stunned impression on his face as he went, "Yeah, I'm surprised too. I mean she's a girl 'n all".

And I was back to hating him fiercely that instant.

Piece of shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**We finally have some action, and a cliffhanger! I'm truly sorry, I just had to... -evil laugh- But my next two chapters are almost ready and I'll make sure to publish them quickly, unlike this one.**

**Also, I guess I need a disclaimer thingy? Well, characters belong to Tolkien. I just took them out to play.**

**Chapter 3**

/EPOV/

I don't know what they call "party spirit" but I definitely don't have it. The party is to start in an hour and here I am standing in front of my wardrobe without a single idea what to wear. I'm so not wearing the dress Pippin suggested, thank you very much. Me in a pink sundress and black stilletos? Ha. No. But I don't feel like my Lunachicks T-shirt and blue jeans, either. Ugh. I might as well not even go... only that Aragorn will.

Oh, fuck me.

I take the dress and let out an annoyed sigh. Pippin is going to be happy, one of us at least. You could say I owe the kid that. He and his cousin are the closest to friends I've had in a while. They're both like pocket suns - how they manage to always remain cheerful and optimistic is an unsolved mystery to me. Despite my dedication, Zen I can't manage to be. Therefore Merry and Pippin are my Zen-bringers, in a way. I met them in my English Lit class freshman year, and we clicked instantly. It was not long after the car crash that took both my parents' lives and my world was threatening to fall apart - they kept me from letting it do so. I have a small smile on my face as I put the dress on. It does look good on me, as much as I deny it. Uncle Theoden bought it for my 15th birthday, but I haven't really grown much since then and it fits me like a glove. It's some dark, dusty shade of pink, with tiny black dots all over the skirt and a black bow right under my breasts. Maybe too cute and dolly, but that's just how uncle liked "his girls" - me and his wife. Sadly, he doesn't notice either of us anymore.

The motives behind his son's suicide, no one could tell. Theodred was such a bright kid. We grew up yard to yard and I never saw the shadow of depression in his eyes. Mum used to say her brother was as good only in front of us but could do far better at his own home; I couldn't know about the yelling, the drinking. I did know, though, that Theoden truly loved his son. I guess he just didn't tell him so, and then it was too late. Aunt left soon after the funeral. Now I only see uncle on holidays, and he never speaks. Eomer says he has melancholia.

Fuck, Eomer will be at the party!

Probably with the Rohirrims.

_Definitely_ drunk.

Okay, then. One more reason to keep away from tequila.

Not that my brother is over-possessive or something, he just likes acting like a father when he's drunk(check) and with his arm-wrestling-team buddies(check). He's not necessarily bad though. We simply have different ways of dealing with losing our parents - his emphasizing on violence and alcohol, mine on achieving peace(and, well, alcohol). I really do my best, by the way. I mean it when I say I'm a Buddhist. I'm learning how to look at things from a new perspective and I actually believe in all of this - in loving, in accepting, in really being there. I'm trying, I am. It's just hard being Zen when you're surrounded by basic bitches and you have no one.

I look myself in the full-length mirror. Shiny new stilletos, legs that could be more tanned(my whole skin could use some tan, actually, but I guess I'll have to live with ivory since I have a sun allergy and all), lovely(in a way)dress. No necklace, no bracelets, no rings, no earrings. Nothing to weigh me down. Hair falling freely. Hm. I could use some makeup.

After I apply mascara and some lipstick, I grab my bag and hit the road. It might seem ridiculous to some, but I hardly leave the house without a book... or five. I'm currently reading "The Catcher in the Rye", again. It's become somewhat a tradition of mine, reading this babe. Sallinger definitely knows his shit.

I get in a cab and roll my eyes at the radio station chosen by the driver. I can't stand cabs and cheesy pop. Normally, "Helm's Deep"(the local Irish pub and residence of the party-to-be) isn't that far from our place and I'd walk the distance effortlessly - were it not for the damned heels! Ugh. I hurry to pay and get out of the car in a rush. Britney is so not my thing. Eomer digs her, though. Go figure.

The pub is, well, crowded. It's the last party before Christmas break and pretty much everyone I know is here. But I can't see my main purpose for dolling up. Funny, he should be here. Yet when I finally notice him making out with a girl, I wish I weren't here. Of course he has a ladyfriend. Of course she looks better than me, all smudgy lipstick aside. Arwen Undomiel. I should've known better.

Now, what I should do is be happy cause he's happy, forget shit and move on.

What do I do? Order a tequila shot.

Someone hugs me from behind as I slam the empty shot glass at the table. I turn around and a tiny curly mess shouts excitedly at me. "Oh sweetheart, do you look amazing!" I giggle and grab Merry for another hug. "How could I know, now that I've seen perfection?" "So you saw Grima too?" What. "I meant you, silly, how could that misogynistic snake be perfect?" I try damn hard not to laugh at the idea. What is Merry even talking about? "Sweetie, the things I want him to do with that tongue, oh... Also he's not misogynistic, all he is is hot," he exclaims and I can't help an annoyed snort this time before quickly telling Merry about my last encounter with the... thing. And Merry has the nerve to laugh at me! "Oh, sweetheart, you're fifty shades of wrong about him. You completely misunderstood him," Merry takes a deep breath and stops laughing. "He just hasn't had a girl agree with him, ever. He probably likes you a lot. The guy is a shy fuck-up but he's nice, I tell you." And I thought the night couldn't get weirder. "How do you know?" "He kind of talked to me yesterday. I invited him over here actually. He said something about everyone hating him apart from Gollum who is weird, and I think he didn't mean just here. He's quite terrified of... well, life. But he's not as horrible as you portray him, missy."

I hear a familiar voice behind me, accompanied by girly giggling, and I quietly order and end another shot of poison. Merry raises an eyebrow; I snort. "I can't deal with the Lovedoves right now," I get off my chair and head for the exit, shouting at the guy that I need air. But the sight outside the pub rather startles me.

What the...


	4. Chapter 4

**As I promised, here's the next one ^^**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien, the extract from Hymn to Beauty belongs to Baudelaire.**

**Chapter**** 4 **

/GPOV/

I knew going to the party wouldn't be a really good idea, but still I went, having heard Meriadoc's "inspirational speech". I don't really have any neat or party-ish clothes, so I decided on my newest Anaal Nathrakh T-shirt, my most comfortable pair of skinny jeans and my beloved neon green creepers(I've always been rather short compared to my classmates, and I like the tall feeling they give me quite a lot). I changed all my piercings from silver to the same neon green - I have an industrial piersing, a septum piercing and spider bites, with intentions to have my anti-eyebrow pierced soon as well. I'm not a tattoo person, but I'm extremely fascinated by piercings instead.

I was early, of course. One thing I can not stand is unaccuracy. I was met by the jolly cousins at my very entrance. "Hey, Grima, who allowed you to be so handsome?" Peregrin gave me a peck on both cheeks, smirking deviantly. Meriadoc did so too, and I was blushing rose red. Compliments towards my persona were rare and usually more of a joke; I was far from used to honest admiration and I didn't care that it came from boys - I appreciated it nevertheless.

We've been hanging in the pub and small chatting for about ten minutes when my phone rings. I get out to answer the call. It's mom, for the third time today. I move away from the front door, turning my back at it and anyone who'd walk in, let out a deep sigh and press the green button. "Yeah, mom?" "Are you at that party you said you'd attend?" I roll my eyes. "Yeah? Why? I already told you I'm going." "I'm just asking! I mean, honey, you never go out..." Oh, Christ. "Well, now I do. Only I'm talking to you and not to my... friends," I carefully sigh out the word. They could be, I guess. Friends. Hm. "Oh, okay, honey. Have fun!" and she hangs up. This woman. She still thinks I'm twelve.

I shake my head and search my pockets for a cigarette and that lighter. The lighter that Theo gave me. I sigh out the smoke. Theo.

We met by the sea two summers ago, or more specifically in the small hotel library; we both detested the sunlight, and we were both looking for Thomas Harris - he enjoyed the grotesque beauty, while I was more about the simple and honest gore. He didn't tell me where he was from, and neither did I; we talked little about our backgrounds, actually. Our parents sucked and we had no friends, but that was about it. We enjoyed talking about art, on the other hand. We shared a common passion for the darker part of the world. Death and blood were sweet, most praised and melodic words, and I hadn't been as ecstatic as I was back then, whispering Rembo and Poe's sacred rhymes in a nocturnal choir with him. I felt as if Theo was my soul twin, and he was the greatest friend I'd had.

Then _that_ happened. We were both supposed to return home from our one-month summer holidays the following week, and we would miss each other, and we would exchange addresses, and we would write each other letters, and all that. We were reciting Baudelaire that afternoon, taking turns, looking at each other's eyes. Theo always began. "_Did you fall from high heaven or surge from the abyss, O Beauty? Your bright gaze, infernal and divine, confusedly pours out courage and cowardice, or love and crime. Therefore men liken you to wine._" We both fancied Leclercq's translation of "Hymn to Beauty" best, and knew it by heart; it was yet another amazing similarity between us. I took it from there. "_Your eyes hold all the sunset and the dawn, you are as rich in fragrances as a tempestuous night, your kisses_-" and he leaned down and kissed me. Which was a shock to say the least; I immediately pulled back, gasping in horror. Theo stepped back too, frightened, head-to-the-ground, blushing, stuttering quietly "I-I thought... I thought you al-also were..." he looked up at me, I shook my head in apologetic denial. He ran out of the library then, and I didn't see him there again.

Just my luck, huh?

I throw the cigarette butt on the ground, step on it to put it off and turn around, now ready to get back to the guys... only to find myself facing the infamous Rohirrims. I've never liked them, or even understood them for the matter. Arm wrestling seems like a huge waste of time to me(then again, so does every sport, ever). And now a dozen of arm-wrestlers are blocking my way. One of them points at me and yells, "This scum said shit about my sister!" - and within a blink I'm on the ground and trying to block the kicks with my legs. I have no idea what and why is happening, the only thing I know is that blood is filling my mouth after a hard hit in the chin, and that I want to fight back. But I can't.

And just as I realise I could die here, I hear a tear-soaked yet scaringly furious voice and the kicks stop raining on me. "What the hell?! Get off of him," the girl helps me stand up on my feet and I realize she's Eowyn. "But you said he offended you," says one of the Rohirrims and I realize he's Eomer, her brother. When have I spoken against her, I wonder, trying not to think of the pain. Of the overwhelming, supermassive pain that has taken control over me. Having a bone broken would be but a tickle compared to this, and I wish I was exaggerating. "I misunderstood him. And you should cut down the whiskey, dickhead," with which she rolls her eyes and carefully places my blunt left arm around her frail shoulders; and I'd protest, were I not so exhausted. "C'mon, Grima, let's get you some ice," and we get back in the pub and she asks the bartender for ice. He helps her wrap some in a small towel, she grabs it and drags me to the toilet.

I can't tell what soothes my wounds better. The water, or her hands.

"I think you should be fine for now, but you better get home and clean yourself up... Did you drive to here?" Hell, even shaking my head is painful. I guess I give my suffering away somehow because Eowyn looks even more worried now. "Okay, let's get us a cab and I'll see you to bed." Okay, where on Earth did that come from?! "S-since when are you... being nice to me?" "Since you're in pain and it's my fault and I can help?"

I take a deep breath and it's like my ribcage has been cracked open and my insides are spilling out. And I'm that sixth grade kid they almost killed in the school toilet all over again.

"I can h-handle it," I try to get on my feet, and Eowyn shakes her head in disapproval as she puts my arm over her shoulders again and drags me out of the toilet, pressing the ice-towel to my chin. "No, you can't, now shut up and let me feel useful, okay?" And I cannot deny her that.

The cab driver is into Britney. Eowyn and I exchange looks of terror, she whispers "Same crap when I was getting to here," I whisper "Why did they kick everywhere but my ears?," she smiles, I'm lost.

I'm so, so lost.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm still not so sure about this one... What do you guys think?**

**Chapter 5 **

/EPOV/

Grima is so light it scares me. He seems skinny, yes... but how come I can carry him effortlessly? Food, food and rest, that's what he needs.

It's quite a surprise for me to be in his tiny apartment, in his room. If you told me two hours ago I'd be here and feel sympathy towards this particular human, I'd laugh at your face. Yet here I am, more than responsible and definitely guilty of him being harmed. My stupid, reckless brother... but I gave him motives, it was me who told him Grima was annoying and horrible and disturbing. „That stupid piece of shit," I had said, „mocking women, thinking he's better than us, than me!" Oh, how stupid I was. And now I need to bear the consequences – and the poor boy as well.

His room is dark as he himself always seems. Almost everything is black, apart from the gray walls and the dark blue ceiling. If my ceiling was such, I'd draw stars there. He hasn't. There's a certain kind of sorrow lingering in the corners of his room, and I'm scared for the first time in quite a while – not only for myself though. How can I leave him here? How does he manage to survive in such a soulless place? I carefully lay him on the couch-bed and give him a worried look as his face flinches in pain. „Do you need help?" His eyes are tired and washed out. Does he even sleep, I wonder. „Not at all, my lady, I've been worse," and even in this situation he manages to sound sarcastic. Maybe it's his voice, I don't know. Then he coughs and quietly cries out and I can't help getting on my knees and trying to find out what's wrong. „It... hurts... when I breathe," he whispers, his voice trembling, then waves as if it's not a big deal. „I'll be fine, you-you can leave now..." „That's bullshit. I'm calling an ambulance," but before I can even get my phone out of my bag, he reaches and grabs my arm, and growls „No. I'm. Fine." Okay then. I cross my arms on my chest and let out a sigh. „What can I do then? I feel useless. Let me help you," I look around and see a furry coat on his chair; I get up, grab it and gently wrap it around Grima's shaking body. He might be taller than me, but he seems so small and fragile right now. He smiles the tiniest smile and nods for no reason whatsoever. "I could...use some company, I guess." I sit next to him on the couch. "You live alone?" He nods, not seeming quite happy with the fact. "I'm not local... Mom and dad stayed home." Oh. So we do have things in common. "You miss them," I say, more like a statement than a question. He nods again, then slightly smiles. "Well, yeah, but at least I'm free," he tries to laugh and doesn't shake in pain that bad. He's either getting better or faking it quite well. "Strict parents?" "Yeah, aren't yours?" He's not as sarcastic, and suddenly I'm not as calm. I try to hide it by indifferently shrugging my shoulders, but when I reply, my voice is shaking. "I only have Eomer now."

Grima's eyes are questioning and I try to explain the shortest way possible. "They, um, they were in a car crash two years ago. Only Eomer survived," I try and sound almost okay, then Grima quietly pulls me in a hug and I am a sobbing mess. I haven't cried since their funeral, not even when we buried Theodred; I thought I had run out of tears then and there, as I saw my parents for the very last time. They lived purposeful, happy lives, and I could do nothing to bring them back, so why get sad over it - this "formula" has kept me sane through the roughest of times, but I haven't had a shoulder to cry on for so long and all of a sudden I'm scared, I can't breathe, I am nothing.

Grima is all silent, gently rubbing my back, caressing my hair, while I lose my dignity(though I somehow know that he won't tell anyone about this). His coat is warm, unlike his ghostly fingers. "Shh, my lady, they're at peace, and so should you be," he whispers in my hair, and I want to thank him but my voice betrays me. So I just weep and try to wrap my arms around him without causing him more pain. "I'm...so...glad...you're...here," I manage to say, and I hear him smile so I look up and his smile is the sweetest and most understanding smile I've seen. "It's alright. You are always so strong, I thought you were somewhat an alien - now I know you're real." And this is the weirdest thing I've been told yet it makes me feel safe. I laugh a little and wipe my tears off. "And _I_ was supposed to take care of _you_." His smile fades to a frown and he pulls back a little. "I-I can take care of myself," he stutters. Why is he so afraid of being helped? Then again, he's used to being his own sole friend, I guess. Oh. I smirk and nod, "Of course you can... Why don't you draw stars there?" I point at the ceiling. He sighs. "But stars are Light. I'm not."

I nod again and stand up, and head to the wall against us where he's hung some pictures. He really isn't Light, that's more than obvious. There are six photos, hung asymmetrically, all in the same wooden frames. The highest one has a younger, non-pierced Grima, with a fair, older woman with the same eyes and hair color, only that hers is long and curly. "Your mother?" I turn to him and he nods; I can see the similarity. "She's pretty," I smile, and he scoffs at me. "Yeah," he rolls his eyes, "I took after dad," and I can't help giving him a bad look. "Shut up. You have the same eyes." I see him blushing with the corner of my eye, but I figure he wouldn't want to seem weak, or whatever, so I turn my back at him and start "examining" the next picture, though not managing to hold in a little smile. Said picture is old and colorless, with a bunch of girls in swimsuits grinning at the camera. "The girl in the middle is my grandma," I hear him explain. "She died when my father was born. She was Light and wrote poems, and she was pure and happy, then she fell for grandpa, who is Darkness, and it killed her." Oh, I see. He really believes in this light-and-darkness thing. "Am I Light?" I turn to face him, and he shakes his head not in denial but in uncertainty. "I don't know yet," he whispers. And what scares me is I do not know, either.

The four other pictures form a square, and seem to be related - Grima and some blond guy hiding behind Harris's Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs so that only their eyes are visible; both of them with sunglasses and using locks of the other's hair as fake moustaches(the blond guy's hair is the same length as Grima's); blond guy lost in a huge armchair and reading something, seeming more and more familiar to me; Grima staring at blond guy and blond guy staring at Grima, blond guy being Theodred.

I gasp, shocked. "You-you know him?!" I point at the photo of my cousin and stare desperately at the now-confused Grima. He shrugs his shoulders and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, why? Do you?" Oh, shit. "How did you meet?" "Umh, we were staying at the same hotel and found each other interesting," his smile is nostalgic, not sad - _he doesn't know?_ "When was that?" "Last year's summer, why are you so worried, Eowyn?" Oh, shit. "Grima, did something bad happen between you two?" His temple is wrinkled now, and his eyes suspicious. "Well, apparently he crushed me, I mean I couldn't know, he wouldn't say a thing," he lets out an annoyed sigh. "Silly, shy Theo. He kissed me, and I was shocked, to begin with... I never saw him again. He avoided me, and gosh, I felt so bad! I mean, not that I liked him back, not in that way, but he was an exquisite friend... Eowyn, are you okay?" Oh, shit. I can feel the blood rushing out of my head. I meet Grima's worried gaze and slowly, quietly start speaking, "I... Grima, Theodred was my cousin. He hung himself after he returned from a holiday with aunt and uncle, last year's summer."

At first he's quiet, surprised I'd say - then he starts blinking real fast and jumps on his feet and takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair, and he looks at me like a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus. His voice is the scariest thing I've heard. "I killed Theo?"

On any other such occasion, I'd blame him. I admit it, I totally would. Even though I wasn't so close with my poor cousin, I'd act it out and make Grima feel even guiltier. I'd yell. I'd make a scene. I'd never talk to him again. But now, now his unnaturally pale eyes are rivers and his bottom lip is trembling, and he looks like a lost puppy and I just can't do anything but walk over to him and hug him, careful not to touch a wound. He sobs so quietly but his whole body is shaking; and at a point, he takes a step back and looks at me and whispers, "I'm so sorry, Eowyn." And I could never blame him.


	6. Chapter 6

**We're pretty close to fluff, I promise.**

**Chapter 6**

**/GPOV/**

I can't believe I've fallen asleep, but this seems to be it as I hear Elrond yell my name. He's always harsh out of debate club meetings. I try to understand when I've managed to doze off. It's been weeks since I've gotten some sleep, maybe even months - but I'm glad, sort of. At least I don't dream of her anymore.

I haven't seen her since that night. Christmas break I spent back with my family. I got mittens and a sweatshirt from mom and a black eye from dad. (_When will you grow up, useless scum, I am ashamed of you_) I came back around three this morning, and I didn't sleep in the train, or at my place, so I guess that's why I was asleep during History. I'm wondering what Eowyn did this holiday.

It's the end of the lecture, so I just ask to be excused, grab my bag and head out. I think my brain is about to explode.

Migraine. Great. I thought I had gotten rid of that.

I get a bottle of coke from the vending machine and lean on the wall, pressing my freezing fingers against my forehead. I can almost feel the pulsating pain materialize under my skin. It's sometimes nice to be always cold. Theo used to say I was a vampire.

Before I killed him.

fuckfuckfuckfuck

stupid

useless

monster

killermurdererslayerMONSTER

.HIM.HIM

"Grima?" Eowyn's worried voice is what takes me back to the worldofnormalpeople. I'm rocking back and forth and gasping for every breath and I'm goingtodie; I dare not say I seem human right now. I look up at her and whisper, "I killed him I killed him I killed him," I chant and chant. I think I'm crying. Eowyn presses her index finger against my lips and grabs my arm. I stand up next to her, knee shaking combined with creepers making me unable to walk properly, but she drags me down the hall anyway. "C'mon, Grima," she turns to look at me and gives me a tiny smile. "Where are we going?" "To see him."

The graveyard. I hadn't been here before. It's all so... quiet. I can imagine Poe writing here. Eowyn silently walks before me, sneaking between tombstones, leaning away from marble angels, until she stops. There he is.

"THEODRED O'ROHAN

FOREVER 19

REST IN PEACE, SWEETEST CHILD"

I'm more outraged than sad. Seriously? Seriously?! Couldn't they at least put a Rimbaud quote, something like that? Did they not know their son the slightest?

"And here are my parents, " Eowyn waves her pale hand towards a double grave. No pictures, no words, just two detailed roses wrapped around each other are craved into the marble. "It's exactly two years today," I hear her whisper and look up to meet her gaze. A stray tear has dropped from her eye and is now slowly dancing down her colorless cheek. I extend my hand and dry the tear with the tip of my thumb.

Eowyn looks at me. Her eyes are like the oceans in old movies. Distant. Cold. Dusty. All colors last a lifetime and then fade to grey, I remember - her eyes must be ancient. I've never seen eyes like hers. She is neither Light nor Dark. How can this be?

I place my other hand on her shoulder and lean forward to press my dry lips against her forehead. She lets out a sigh, then her rose red lips' corners curl up, forming a shy smile. "Thank you," she whispers. I figure you can only whisper where the dead rest. I try and smile back. There is no trace left from my panic attack. I am clean.

As clean as the Dark can be, it is.

We sit on a wooden bench near Theo and her parents. She's looking at the ground and I'm looking at the sky. Clouds start to roll in, and they smell like thunders and snow. "It might snow," I note, and she turns her head at me, seemingly disoriented. She nods and half-smiles. "Snow means angels. That's nice." I guess we all interprete snow our own way.

"How was your holiday?" She sighs. "Lonely. Not so festive. Walked in on my brother and his girlfriend at least eight times," she snorts, and I struggle not to laugh. "Nothing new, I guess. Yours?" I point at the now-purple circle around my right eye. "Spent it with my family," I smile. Eowyn gasps in horror. "Your parents did this to you?" I shrug my shoulders. "Dad is sometimes harsh on me, but he's not that bad." "Is he not?" I shake my head and look at her unbelieving eyes. "You have no idea. This is cute compared to what grandpa used to do to him. He was taught this way. I can't blame him," I turn to stare at the sky again, and a snowflake lands on my nose. I giggle and point at the sky. "See? Told you it was going to snow!" And her smile is so full of bliss, if I were to draw an icon that would be my model. She raises her palm, catching the first snowflakes of the year. I stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and laugh as I feel little pieces of ice melting on both tips of it, and I couldn't care less that someone took their life because of me, not right now. Right now I'm carefree. I gently grab Eowyn's small hand and give it a light squeeze, stroking her inner palm with my thumb. She looks at me, and for the first time her eyes aren't sorrowful.

That would be a good moment to kiss her, but she probably doesn't like me that way, and it would sure be inappropriate considering that we're sitting next to her parents and the first person who's kissed me. So I boop her nose with my index finger.

And she laughs.

And I could watch her laugh for the rest of my life.


End file.
